


One Life Against the Universe

by Iwouldwrite1000fics



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Children, Fluff and Angst, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Mpreg, Other, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22322365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwouldwrite1000fics/pseuds/Iwouldwrite1000fics
Summary: When signing documents always read the fine print.  Or Crowley didn’t realize that delivering the antichrist meant carrying it too.  Trying to stop Armageddon is going to be a lot more hands on than he thought.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to the Good Omens Big Bang! Since it's multi chapter I'm posting early so there will be updates later with my artist's lovely work :).

_“I see skies of blue and clouds of white_

_The bright blessed day_

_The dark sacred night_

_And I think to myself_

_What a wonderful world”_

Moments that will change one’s life forever rarely present themselves as such. Crowley certainly didn’t think such a thing was happening when he met with Hastur and Ligur at the edge of a graveyard late one not stormy night.

That was until a basket was held up to him. Crowley, knowing what is was, saw his life flash before him and until that moment 6000 years had never seemed so short.

“Already?”

“Yes.”

“And it’s up to me?”

“Yes.”

“You, you know this isn’t really my scene.”

His scene was lost cellphone networks, and teeth grinding commutes to work. Big cataclysmic events, he left to the Misses upstairs and the four horsemen. The flood and the black plague didn’t come from Hell after all. In fact humans had a far greater imagination for cruelty than he did and he learned that it was far easier to do paperwork when he just took credit for some of their stuff.

“Your scene, your starring role.”

Ligur held up a clipboard with a thick stack of paper on it.

“Sign here.”

Crowley flipped through the pages, to put his task off a little longer not to actually read anything. Then he signed his sigil with a great flourish as was his way. As it burned on the dotted line he frowned.

“Why so glum? The moment we’ve been working towards all these centuries is at hand!”

“Centuries yeah.”

“Our moment of enteral triumph awaits!”

“Triumph, right.”

“And you will be a tool of that glorious destiny.”

A destiny he had been running from since he figured out he could lie on his paperwork and no one would care. Wine, driving, and gluing 50 pence pieces to the sidewalk had proven much more fun than collecting souls for an army to turn the whole place into a pile of burning goo.

“Glorious tool that’s me.”

“Take it.”

He did.

“I’ll be off,” he declared, sauntering off even though it felt like he had the whole weight of the world in that basket. “Ciao.”

He slammed the door of the Bentley far harder than necessary and started driving, far slower than necessary too, swearing all the while. Then an all too familiar voice came over the radio.

“Here are your instructions. This is the big one, Crowley.”

The instructions came in the form of a thick fog that disappeared just in time for Crowley to see the headlights of an oncoming truck. It took everything he had not to just let the truck plow into him, but his Bentley didn’t deserve such treatment. So he jerked the car aside at the last moment and headed for the birthing hospital.

Glorious tool indeed.

***

There’s a trick they do with three playing cards that is very difficult to follow so we won’t bother. 

Crowley had now turned it into the trick of the cups and balls where all three cups have balls under them and none of that matters because he has the means to the whole illusion stuffed in his pocket. The baby in the basket still went to the wrong room and the superfluous baby was whisked away to one day show off his tropical fish.

Meanwhile Crowley went back to the Bentley to bang his head against the steering wheel.

“Why me?!”

It was a stupid question really. Satan had already told him why. They loved him down there and this was his reward for his great service to the cause. It was his own fault and he knew it for claiming all those things the humans had thought up themselves all those years.

He fished out the bottle of deep blood red liquid from his pocket and stared at it. It wasn’t his job to deliver that child to the American diplomat, not really. That was just the cover story for his true task: he was to bear the antichrist. Bring them into the world and raise them in the ways of the fallen. Any other demon would have given their left arm away for such an honour. Or at least someone’s left arm. Crowley on the other hand was sorely tempted to dump the contents on the ground and then run over the bottle for good measure. If he did that though his bosses would send him to oblivion using the slowest torture possible and after that they would just get some other poor shmuck to do it. Someone who did indeed want to bring about the end times and then everything would be truly buggered. If he went through with it though, hating every minute of it of course, he would have full control over the hell spawn.

“Aziraphale.”

The bottle glowed as Crowley spoke his name and the angel’s face took shape in his mind.

He had to talk to him, take him out to lunch if needed. For all that he could be a right bastard at times the angel was still caring, kind, chartable and all those other virtuous things needed to help balance out the evil influences. If they could do that, cancel each other as they had those many centuries ago the kid could be normal. Everything, everyone could be saved. Also if working so closely together might nudge them just a bit nearer to the intimacy Crowley had desired for millennia now well that would be quite the bonus wouldn’t it?

Crowley gripped the bottle tightly as he made his decision. He hated having to do this, but if, if he did it. He had the chance to maybe, just maybe, avert everything. He stared down at the cursed object for the final time, the liquid within now a deep purple.

Then grimacing he uncorked the bottle, tipped it to his lips, and downed it in one gulp.

_“If anything goes wrong those involved will be severely punished. Even you, Crowley, especially you.”_


	2. Chapter 2

16 hours into pregnancy: first attempt.

“You’re sure it was the antichrist?” Aziraphale asked, as they sat in Saint James Park the following morning.

It wasn’t that he didn’t; believe Crowley exactly. It was just that he had received no word about it. The previous night had been nothing out of the ordinary for the former guardian of the Eastern Gate. He had gone out for sushi then come back to the bookshop, played Mozart, and read as was his way. The evening had gone utterly uninterrupted until Crowley’s phone call. Why hadn’t he been contacted?

“I should know I delivered the baby. Well not delivered, delivered.” Well at least not yet Crowley thought as he watched a mother pushing a pram past them, her stomach full and rounded with presumably the pram’s occupant’s sibling.

Idly he wondered if he would look like that and stroked a hand along his stomach.

“An American diplomat really? As if Armageddon were a cinematic graphic show you wished to sell is as many countries as possible.”

Crowley hummed in contemplation maybe that was what they wanted. Both of their head offices had gone more corporate over the millennia. Making sure to have as many human eyes as possible focused on the fire and flame fit right in.

“Earth and all the kingdoms there of.”

“We will win of course.”

Crowley had not expected that and turned towards him.

“You really believe that?”

“Of course. Heaven with, finally, triumph over Hell. It’s all going to be rather lovely.”

Crowley grimaced this was not the attitude he thought Aziraphale would take, but still there was time he would just have to…tempt him a bit with all that he enjoyed. Enlighten him really to see what needed to be done.

“Hmm, out of curiosity how many first class composers does your lot have? Because Mozart’s one of ours. Beethoven, Schubert, all of the Bachs-”

“They have already written their music.”

“And you’ll never hear it again. And you know I’ve heard your boss is a big fan of The Sound of Music. Fancy listening to that for all eternity?”

With that Crowley got up and started walking, smirking when Aziraphale hesitated for a second and then followed him.

“Still after we win life will be better for everyone.”

“How?”

“Well I don’t know and I’m not supposed to know it’s all part of the Great Plan.”

“Yeah, and as I recall your part in the plan is to thwart Hell’s efforts and that’s what I’m asking you to do. We’ve only got eleven years and then it’s all over. We have to work together.”

“No.”

“It’s the end of the world we’re talking about. Not some little temptation I’ve asked you to cover for me while you’re up in Edinburgh for the festival. You can’t say no.”

“No.”

“We can do something. I’ve got an idea.”

“No. I am not interested.”

Aziraphale turned to leave and Crowley just gapped after him at a loss for words. He wasn’t supposed to say no. He wasn’t supposed to find the end of the world pleasant. Crowley’s mind began to panic as he realized he may have made a terrible mistake. Still he took a deep breath and regained his composure, stuffing his hands in his pockets to appear nonchalance before he managed to come completely unglued.

“Well what if I buy you lunch?”

***

Crowley kept lunch casual trying to keep Aziraphale comfortable. Let him enjoy himself before reminding him that this too ended with the end of all things. He also took the opportunity to eat more than usual. Was it too early to eat extra? Probably, but Crowley ordered dessert anyway. He might as well indulge while he still had the chance too. Besides he didn’t know if this whole carry the antichrist thing would be like a human pregnancy. For all he knew he’d get one good meal in and then be watching over an egg.

So the afternoon slowly went by with good food and even better company. 

“What are you in the mood for now?” Aziraphale asked as they stepped outside.

Crowley didn’t answer, distracted by a toddler across the street who was having a screaming full on melt-down right there on the sidewalk.

“Alcohol!”

They returned to the bookshop where Crowley doggedly began working through every bottle he could find. There might have been some slight tempting in between drinks about whales and sushi, but mostly Crowley felt the need to drown his building sorrows in something with a kick to it. He had made a mistake. That much was obvious now. The kid on the street a reminder that he’d just agreed to eleven years’ worth of diapers, tantrums, and sleepless nights; and was probably still facing Armageddon at the end of it all with Aziraphale putting up such a fight.

Now alcohol was discouraged while pregnant and this went doubly so if one was a demon carrying the angel of the bottomless pit. Not that Crowley was aware of that and so he was also not prepared for the fact that their powers conflicted when he tried to sober up. 

So while in a universe just to the left of them where he’d convinced Aziraphale they should be godfathers. In this reality he promptly fell asleep on the couch, was told to leave in the morning lest anyone see him, while nursing the worst hangover he could remember since 1610. Then he vowed never to drink anything again, at least until the kid was done baking in the oven. That was the saying right?

In conclusion the first attempt to get Aziraphale on board was a complete and utter failure.

***

Second month of pregnancy: second attempt

Crowley walked slowly down the street, glaring at anyone who so much as glanced in his general direction. He wasn’t going to make it to doomsday he was sure of it. The peanut sized destroyer of worlds was currently destroying him from the inside out; and he wouldn’t be surprised if he just collapsed on the side walk and never got up again. The nausea was unrelenting, he was forever tired, and the general feeling of wretchedness left him utterly spent. Snapping his fingers produced half-hearted miracles at best and having to navigate the world without it made him undeniably cranky. So in a need to make something suffer with him Crowley shoved the door of the bookshop open hard.

“We’re closed!” Came a call from the desk.

“Don’t care,” Crowley answered, as he stalked past Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale sighed at his dramatics, but followed him to the back anyway. He found the demon sprawled on the couch, his glasses still on, but Aziraphale could tell his eyes were closed. 

“Crowley, wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

The demon just grunted in response.

“I suppose you’re here to talk about Armageddon and all that.”

“It had crossed my mind.”

Aziraphale sighed again and began looking for the wine glasses. He couldn’t cope with this sober and it was five o ‘clock somewhere he believed was the saying so he supposed it would be okay to indulge.

“Well what shall it be?”

“Tea.”

“Tea?”

“And those little chocolate biscuits.”

There was silence at that and Crowley cracked one eye open as Aziraphale stood there, a look of shock and perhaps a bit of concern on his face.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit…off.”

“I should say.”

Still Aziraphale went to the small kitchenette to put the kettle on and left Crowley with his thoughts. Crowley did think too, about why he’d come. It had been about the end times the angel wasn’t wrong. He’d thought of a new angle. Of presenting this as expanding the Arrangement instead of both of them going against Heaven and Hell’s wishes, but that was before the scent of the chips shop down the street had sent his stomach rolling. 

Now, as he lay on the couch feeling wretched he just wanted some reassurance that this wasn’t all business. That he and Aziraphale’s relationship was more than just a ‘you scratch my back I’ll scratch yours’ acquaintanceship. That he meant more to the angel than that. He wanted to be more, but who could ever love someone like him really? He was literally bringing about the end of the world after all and Aziraphale wouldn’t stop being happy about it.

Said angel returned with a small tray set out with tea and a tin of biscuits. He huffed when Crowley made no attempt to move, but still poured out and handed him the cup.

“Thanks.”

Crowley held it in his hands and sipped gently. He’d hate to ruin the rug after all. 

Aziraphale sat down opposite him, but when it became obvious Crowley wasn’t interested in engaging in conversation he started shelving a new collection he’d recently acquired. Moving around the shop, turning on the gramophone, and was content to let Crowley relax. Relax Crowley did as his stomach slowly settled and the second helping of tea warmed him along with the biscuits.

The music was soft and the couch cushions were too. It was nice and Crowley decided he didn’t want to ruin it by bringing up work. When was the last time Aziraphale had let his guard down like this? Crowley couldn’t recall. He didn’t want to think about the end of days right now he just wanted to be here with him even though it wasn’t really real.

“Crowley?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you all right? I mean is anything bothering you besides being…off?”

The answer was one and the same so he didn’t even have to lie.

“No.”


	3. Chapter 3

Six month of pregnancy: third attempt.

Although it was technically the third and a half time.

There had been an attempt before this where Crowley had invited Aziraphale out to the theatre. The angel had agreed, but as Crowley had opened his mouth to ask about the end times before the start of the play Aziraphale told him in no uncertain terms that if Armageddon or the antichrist was mentioned at all during the evening he was leaving. Crowley wisely shut up and enjoyed the show. He also left Aziraphale wide eyed when he ate more ice cream than he did at intermission. 

This time though Crowley was determined to get it right. He’d set up a meeting at the bandstand. Where there would be no distractions. No alcohol, no shows, no delicious chocolate biscuits. No fronts he was just going to lay it all out. Unfortunately being forth right wasn’t his style at all. So, it really shouldn’t have been a surprise when the whole thing went pear shaped less than fifteen minutes in. 

“Crowley, really you’re being ridiculous. I don’t know why you have to bring this up again. I’ve already told you, the answer is no. I’m not interested in hiding in the bushes for eleven years and thwarting what won’t even happen anyways.” 

“Why not?” Crowley asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Have you heard something?”

“No, but I plan to speak with the Almighty directly and when I do I’m sure She will make everything all right again.”

The demon groaned he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You’re so clever. How can someone as clever as you be so stupid?”

Aziraphale stepped back, rightly offended.

“You know it’s possible, Crowley, you were an angel once.”

“That was a long time ago and talking to our lady overlord didn’t exactly yield good results then either.”

Aziraphale huffed. “Well if you’re so smart why don’t you fix it yourself?”

“I am!”

“By asking me to get involved in your scheme when you could simply eliminate the problem.”

“You’re not suggesting-”

“If there was no boy the whole process it would stop wouldn’t it? Not a lot to ask of a demon.”

Crowley nervously pulled on his shirt, making sure the growing bulge was covered. He was well aware of the fact that he was an awful demon so asking him to do that was in fact asking quite a lot indeed.

“Not a big fan of killing kids me.”

“Well you’re the demon I’m the nice one. If you do it then Heaven does not have blood on its hands.”

Crowley snorted in disgust. “Oh, no blood on its hands that’s rich and holier than thou.”

“Well I am a great deal holier than thou that’s the whole point. I shouldn’t even be talking to you like this and for all I know you’re making the whole thing up to corrupt me.”

Now it was Crowley’s turn to be offended, well more so than he was already anyway.

“Why would I lie to you, Aziraphale?”

“You’re a demon it’s what you do.”

“Fine, whatever,” I’m lowly and unworthy Crowley thought thanks for the confirmation, “but why would I lie to you about this? What in the name of someone do I gain by going against the thing Hell set in motion and that both sides want?”

“My company.”

Crowley crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

“Already have that, Angel.”

“Not anymore it’s over.”

He was utterly speechless for moment. This was supposed to be about getting their relationship closer not ruining it completely.

“You don’t mean that.”

“We’re on opposite sides, Crowley, and I can’t just not do what I’m told.”

“You haven’t been told anything, Aziraphale, you said so yourself.”

“Yes and I also said it’s the Great Plan this is how things are supposed to be.”

“Yeah, for the record great pustulent mangled bollocks to the great blasted plan!”

Aziraphale twisted his hands together and looked at the ground.

“May you be forgiven.”

“No, I’ll never be forgiven not ever. It’s part of a demon’s job description _unforgivable_ that’s what I am.”

A part of Crowley was aware he was lashing out, but at that point he didn’t care. He was tired of trying and failing to get through to Aziraphale and standing for so long while doing so was really starting to hurt his back. 

Aziraphale glared at him. “Then you shouldn’t need to worry about what you’ve already put in motion you’ve already done your job. It’s not mine to help you fix it.”

Crowley quickly realized that he night still have a chance at this “Well actually I haven’t fully completed the job yet I-”

“No, no, I don’t want to listen to you needling about-”

“If you would just let me explain-”

“No! We’re an angel and a demon we have nothing what’s so ever in common. I don’t want to work with you on this I don’t even like you.”

That was the last straw.

“Right, right then you’re right this is ridiculous I don’t even know why I’m still talking to you,” Crowley said, throwing his hands up in defeat. 

He turned around before Aziraphale could respond and started walking away.

“Have a nice final decade.” 

He threw the comment behind him and kept walking, didn’t dare look back, because if he saw the look Aziraphale gave him as he left he’d have run right back to the angel without a second thought. Instead Crowley kept going fueled by anger and frustration. Those feelings tend to burn out quickly though so when he was certain he was out of sight he sat down on the nearest bench and stuffed his hands in pockets.

“Well that went down like a lead balloon,” he mumbled, so much for forgiveness. 

A decade and some change barely the blink of eye to someone as long lived as him, but it suddenly seemed like an eon to face alone as the last years of the world as he knew it. That was that though he’d have to do this alone. Somehow. No one was coming, not Hell, not Aziraphale, and certainly not Her.

Still Aziraphale had unknowingly presented him with another option, but no he couldn’t miracle it away now he knew that. His superiors would know. Still there were other ways. Those who had found themselves in his place and made it go away one way or another. A pill, a needle, a hard tumble down the stairs happened all the time, but if they mucked up with something as simple as alcohol would they be able to stop any of that too? Crowley wasn’t sure. Then of course there was one last wrinkle.

Crowley liked kids.

He should have known from that stunt with the ark. Still as he had been researching pregnancy and human babies, buying supplies, dealing with the whole process and it had somehow started to be appealing. Not the end of the world, but the stuff before that. Things like picking a name, wondering if the kid would look like him. Thinking about things they might do together. One of the down sides of being an immortal being was that his connections to humans were brief by necessity. He’d learned long ago that those he bonded with would one day leave him, and now even Aziraphale had joined that list. But with the antichrist being well the antichrist chances were good they wouldn’t. Well so long as the end times were averted of course. It was almost…pleasant to think about really. 

He had never expected to want the kid. To want the kid to be like him, not that he should want that he supposed. They should be whatever they wanted. Hell had probably counted on that last bit really. That it was an utter certainty that he would nurture the evilness so they would want to bring about death and destruction, but what if he didn’t? What if he just let the kid be themselves? He’d learned to do it himself over the centuries. The deeds of the day pared down mild annoyances, little niggly things that built and built into bigger things, or more often didn’t, for decades now. He took credit for tons of things and they’d never checked up, why would they this time? Just tell the bosses whatever they wanted to hear, make it look like he was doing what they’d asked. Half of them were going to be focused on the decoy with the American ambassador anyway. It was what he wanted with Aziraphale really to balance everything out, but could he do it alone? 

_“You were an angel once.”_

Aziraphale was right and he was too that, that was a long time ago. He’d questioned suffering and was sentenced to it for that. One thing he knew he never wanted to was prevent his kid from asking questions, being curious. He wanted them to have better than he did and maybe it wasn’t too late for him to be better too. Also there was the bonus that if he saved everything then he’d have plenty of time to pine after Aziraphale again and rebuilding that relationship should only take, what? Another six thousand years?

Crowley groaned and sunk down lower on the bench. Satan help him he was such a love struck fool. Or tool really recalling the night that has set this all in motion. A glorious tool who was going to be the wrench in everyone’s plans and he smirked at the idea. It was fun really. He rubbed his stomach and the annoying peanut kicked in response.

“Well I don’t know how, but we’re going to figure this out just you and me.”


	4. Chapter 4

October 21 the day of creation. Which was very convenient as Crowley was currently cursing all of said creation as the contractions had begun in earnest. It was ironic that the Earth and the one sent to destroy it would share a birthday.

Not that Crowley was thinking a lot about that, well not anymore anyway. The only somewhat coherent thought he’d had in the last ten minutes was that he was forever sorry for whatever part he’d played in the curse of Eve. 

He tried to breathe fully just like all the books and online videos said, but the pain was too much he couldn’t focus properly. It was all coming too much and too fast now. No position was comfortable anymore not standing, not walking, not his current hunched over form in the bathtub. Compounding all that was that he couldn’t tell if something was going wrong. If things were going too slowly, but it sure seemed like they were. There was blood, black naturally, but also a mix of a copper like colour. There was so much, but was it too much? He didn’t know and that could have deadly consequences for both of them. The baby might be breech, there could be a placental abruption- 

All of those dismal thoughts were cut off as another contraction hit.

Crowley screamed and threw his head back against the edge of the bathtub. And if all that wasn’t enough his wings had threatened to appear, he could feel them pulsing between his shoulder blades. The contraction ended and he slumped over gasping for air. He couldn’t do this alone, physically, and if he was honest with himself at this point he didn’t want to.

So Crowley swallowed his pride and slowly climbed out of the tub. Having misplaced his mobile somewhere in the pain and misery he stumbled into his office and with shaking hands he picked up the phone. It took five tries to get the number punched in properly, but eventually the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Aziraphale.”

“Crowley, it’s-it’s been a while.” 

“I know look I’m sorry whatever I said I didn’t mean it.”

Aziraphale sighed. “This is a terrible apology, Crowley. If you’re not going to own your words then-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but I…I don’t have time for this.”

“Look if it’s about the end times I-I well might be willing to talk you know err, Crowley? Are you still there?”

There was only heavy breathing for several l tense seconds before Crowley came back on the line.

“Angel, please I need someone-I-I can’t do this without you.”

Aziraphale frowned. He had never heard Crowley so desperate. It wasn’t like him at all. He said he didn’t have time, had he been threatened? Was he hurt? Whatever was going on it had to be serious.

“What’s going on?”

“I need, ngh…I’ll explain in person.”

“Where should I meet you?”

“At my place. Close up the shop, come over the phone line, and don’t let anyone know where you are I mean it, Aziraphale, no one.”

“A-all right.”

The bookshop was already closed of course so Aziraphale merely set the receiver down and concentrated. When he opened his eyes he was in Crowley’s flat. He didn’t immediately see him though. Until he looked down and found the demon on the floor in a clumsily tied bathrobe gasping in pain, his wings curled around him.

“Good heavens!”

“No, this isn’t Heaven’s work,” Crowley grounded out as the contraction passed. “This is all Hell’s doing.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Aziraphale asked as he helped him stand.

“You know all that talk about the American diplomat and the baby swap?”

“Yes.”

“Load of rubbish means nothing. It was all an attempt to throw everyone off.”

He put a hand against his swollen stomach and Aziraphale gasped.

“Oh, Crowley, they can’t want you to-”

“Deliver, deliver it yeah. Why bother with the middle man when you can just have the lord of darkness be raised by a minion of darkness right?”

Crowley tried to laugh it off, but Aziraphale knew better. His eyes betrayed the naked pain and fear that had flooded the demon.

“How far along are you?”

“Full term I think, give or take a week, and contractions are now four-four minutes apart!”

Crowley doubled over and his hands gripped the desk hard to stay upright.

“Stay here and breathe deeply.”

“Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.”

Aziraphale strode off to the bathroom with at least the air of confidence even though he was shaken hard by what was happening. Everything he’d thought he’d known about the situation now thrown into chaos. Still he was trained for this. During the war to end all wars and the war that followed it he had done what he could to help, tending to the sick and the injured in various institutions around London. As the years went by it took on a specific form. He wanted to help bring life and hope into the world. Holding new precious life in his hands filled him with joy and purpose when so many others were suffering and dying. He still knew what to do. As he set about scrubbing his hands and then grabbed several towels. He noticed the blood drops trailing all over the floor smeared in places where Crowley had clearly paced about trying to get comfortable.

He had tried to this all alone.

“Oh, Crowley.”

Aziraphale returned as quickly as he could and helped Crowley to his bedroom got him positioned on the bed.

“You were right to call when you did, Crowley, they’re already crowning.”

“Good for me.” He managed through gritted teeth.

Aziraphale put a hand on his arm in comfort. “Just trust me.”

“I do,” Crowley said, and he locked their eyes together so Aziraphale knew he was speaking the truth.

So with a few pushes and a lot of swearing the antichrist was born. Aziraphale was convinced that he or the child would burn each other on contact, but nothing of the sort happened. He simply cleared out the airway and the little one wailed as all babies should.

He smiled. “It’s a girl.”

“A girl?!”

Crowley propped himself up on his elbows and looked down. Seeing that indeed the baby lacked the trait for a male identity at birth and he frowned.

“No one said anything about a girl.”

“Why shouldn’t she be?”

“Your side had a boy figured mine would too. I mean the baby I swapped was a boy.” He shrugged “seemed an easy assumption to make.”

Aziraphale just nodded as he held the baby tightly and began cleaning her off. “She needs to be kept warm.”

Crowley nodded back and reached over for something on the bedside table. As Aziraphale took it he saw it was a knitted red baby hat…with devil horns on it.

“Crowley, really.”

“What? I thought it turned out rather nice for a first try.”

“You made this?”

He shrugged again trying to appear nonchalant even though he was exhausted and felt drained, sweaty, and disgusting. “Well we stopped doing lunches so I’ve had free time.”

“I see.”

Aziraphale put the hat on and finished cleaning her off. Admiring her for moment before coming back to himself.

“I suppose I should-oh.”

He trailed off as he saw that Crowley had fallen asleep on the bed, his wings limp falling off either side of it.

“Well-well I’ll just carry on then.”

He snapped his fingers and cleaned up the afterbirth and all the mess that had come with it. Keeping the baby tucked safely in his arm he pulled a blanket gently over Crowley and wrapped the infant in a knitted one he found folded on the dresser. It was clearly also Crowley’s work with the not quite clean edges, but also the small squares within it containing apples, a flaming sword, and he noticed that one of the squares even had angel wings.

Then, rocking the baby gently he wandered the apartment trying to process everything that had just occurred. Alone with his thoughts, and troubling thoughts they were too as before now it had been far too easy to pretend all of this wasn’t really happening. 

No wonder Crowley had been so insistent on wanting to deal with it directly. He was the catalyst for it, already directly involved before that phone call those scant months ago.

_“For all I know you’re making the whole thing up to corrupt me.”_

And that was response he’d given him it was miracle Crowley hadn’t done something worse than storm off and go silent until he had no choice. It wasn’t that he thought Crowley was lying not really. That was just a flimsy excuse he’d come up with to justify his own shortcomings. If it wasn’t really happening than he didn’t have to be concerned that that heaven thought less of him and that’s why he hadn’t been told anything. A part of him knew they already did, but what if he was losing his grace? What if he hadn’t been told, because they didn’t think he was worthy enough to know?

It terrified him.

Then to have Crowley suggest that they should work together well that only made things worse. They’d never truly worked together before and Aziraphale thought if they did that would be the end of him for certain. The Arrangement had been made long ago even for them now, but that was different. It one thing to leave each other be, help out when needed, take on an extra tempting or blessing every now and then. Crowley was right it was better with them staying home as it certainly gave him more time for his books. They engaged with each casually of course theatre, dinners, many bottles of fine wine over the years, but never side by side as he had been suggesting. Never so fully committed to each other it was too much. So he’d pulled away convinced that everything would go back to the way it should be. 

Things hadn’t clearly. He had tried to contact Her but had only gotten Metatron. They’d confirmed the end times were approaching, but when Aziraphale had mentioned the idea of averting it they firmly rebutted saying the goal of the war was to end it, but to win it. It was coming there was no denying that now and there hadn’t even been anyone to confide in after that depressing revelation. He’d missed Crowley. He’d come to depend on their friendship more than he’d realized. 

Aziraphale finally took a moment to also realize properly that the flat was different Crowley had moved. He could see the bookshop out the sunroom window and pretended he didn’t. Looking at the other windows he noticed that this place was closer to the park for when the little one was older. This neighbourhood was known for having young families, had Crowley prepared for this? It seemed he had. 

_“If there was no boy the whole process it would stop wouldn’t it? Not a lot to ask of a demon.”_

“And I asked him to hurt you.”

No wonder he had reacted so poorly.

“I’m so sorry.”

He gently brushed at the hair under that ridiculous hat. It was starting to dry revealing a bold shade of red to match it. It would probably be exactly like Crowley’s. He wondered if she would inherit anything else from him, perhaps his seeming inability to walk in a straight line. Then he began looking for his own features in her a silly thought really, though she did have remarkably blue eyes. Aziraphale chided himself it was a ridiculous notion and far too sentimental to boot. There was no point in getting attached he told himself. This was the destroyer of worlds. The one to end everything, and as Crowley’s comments had time to stew for the last few months Aziraphale was forced to admit that there was indeed a great many things that he didn’t want to end.

The baby reached out and wrapped a tiny hand around his finger.

All that was still eleven years away if all went as it was dictated to though and right now she was very, very cute. 

“Well I suppose I should see what he has set up for you-oh my.”

He came to across that second bedroom to a full nursery was all ready for her.

“Took inspiration from magazines.”

Aziraphale turned around to see Crowley standing there in his proper black outfit, with his wings tucked away, and decidedly less sweaty.

“Crowley, you look better.”

He shrugged. “Always have been rather good at healing.” He gestured to the room. “So what do you think?”

Aziraphale took in the pastel colours on the walls, the old oak crib, and the plush toys. It was rather pleasant.

“Crowley, I’m impressed.”

“Thanks. Couldn’t let the little thing have nothing after all.”

It was then the baby began to fuss in his arms and started to cry. Crowley gently took her into his own arms for the first time.

“Now none of that or daddy’s going to think you don’t like his decorating skills.”

He took her into the nursery and she quieted. Aziraphale smiled at the sight of the new family. Something inside of him was twisting with want, but this wasn’t his place.

“Well you seem to have this well in hand so I guess I should-”

“You can stay if you like.”

The air was still between them. They both knew that he was asking for so much more than a simple stay for the rest of the afternoon.

“I know, I know I’m going too fast like always. It’s just with the upbringing being so important and all. Having an angelic influence around to thwart the demonic plan might be a good thing. Not that I was actually planning on doing anything I just…well you’ve heard me trying to convince you that Armageddon is a stupid idea and we should work together to stop it. This could be our way of doing that. You and me together, together. Also while I think it’s bollocks people seem to glare less when you have a two parent household.”

Like Crowley that night in the graveyard Aziraphale hadn’t started the day thinking this was going to become a moment that would change his life forever, but now it was upon him whether he was ready or not. He though back on all the previous times Crowley had asked about working together, knowing now that he was asking for so much more.

“You’ve been trying to ask me all-all this time.”

“Umm…sort of. Guess it was kind of about your time and company after all wasn’t it?”

Yes, to go off together it would be more than they’d ever done before. It was why it had scared him. His head office would surely do something and if Crowley didn’t follow his orders well there would indeed be hell to pay.

“Won’t they suspect? Your side, my side, either of them?”

Crowley shook his head.

“No, the whole baby swap ruse was done so neither Heaven nor Hell will suspect anything until the end times, which hopefully won’t come.”

Aziraphale bite his bottom lip as he contemplated that. No one had come to tell him anything. He was to be their agent on Earth and yet its impending destruction had merited nothing. Was it possible they really didn’t know the true plan? Or as he’d come to realize didn’t care?

If he was going to do this and no one would know Crowley would be safe it was okay then wasn’t it? He’d pulled away out of cowardice before and hadn’t that cost them enough time already?

“It’s just you and me, Angel, and probably the Misses upstairs, bet she thinks it’s ironic giving her creation and little Eve here the same birthday.”

“Eve?”

“You don’t like it.”

“No, no I do very much it just seems a bit on the nose that’s all.”

Crowley just hummed in contemplation, turning away to face the window. It was a small movement, but Aziraphale knew what it meant. He was putting up those walls of his. That air of cooler than thou to hide his feelings, his pain, and Aziraphale wouldn’t have it. It was now or never.

If heaven couldn’t be bothered to know or care about the end times then he would. If this was it then it was time to put everything else first for once. He straightened up, firm in his conviction and came into the room and hugged Crowley from behind.

“I accept, Crowley, if you’ll still have me.”

Aziraphale could see his shoulders relax as the tension melted away.

“Always, Angel.”

Crowley looked down at the baby in his arms. He couldn’t believe the antichrist would the thing to bring them together, who knew?

Aziraphale looked at her too and reached over to trace one finger along her cheek. 

“Eve Crowley. I’m assuming she’ll have your last name.”

“Dunno hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Well she’ll need to have a full name for her library card, and friends, and of course school and-”

Crowley cut him off as he turned around and pressed a finger to the angel’s lips.

“Stop, Angel, you’re gonna make the years fly by too fast. Let’s just settle on Eve Crowley and take the rest as it comes hmm?”

“Suppose you’re right. Still it is a bit short; a middle name as well perhaps.”

“You have something in mind?” he asked, as he placed their daughter in the basinet.

“Winfried.”

Crowley chuckled. It was old fashioned, but that was Aziraphale through and through. Still a character from one of his favourite movies had that name so Crowley couldn’t complain and knew he would get used to it.

“Eve Winfried Crowley. I like it.”

He concentrated and a framed birth certificate materialized on the wall bearing her name.

“We’re going to have to get a real one of those you know.”

“You know I’m glad you’re here, Aziraphale, you’re far more on top of paperwork than I am.”

The angel took the jab in stride admiring the certificate. Then he looked over to the bookshelf next to it, or more specifically one of the books sitting on it.

“The complete works of Shakespeare?” he asked, amused.

“Just because I don’t like the gloomy ones doesn’t mean I hate everything the man wrote, and besides I wasn’t about to ask for your signed copy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to the wonderful artwork for this chapter by Nonexistenz: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22479346

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Art] One Life Against the Universe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22479346) by [Nonexistenz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonexistenz/pseuds/Nonexistenz)




End file.
